Opening Move
by writertron
Summary: Sarah really should've known about the persephone canon... It's not even morning yet and the Goblin King has turned up to tell her about the new game. ONESHOT. rating for language.


Opening Move

by Writertron

_shockingly, I disclaim, i.e. the Labyrinth and all associated characters do not belong to me. This is why I am posting this on a fanfic site, not sending it to a publisher._

The party had ended, the denizens of the Labyrinth returning through the mirror to their homeworld. Sarah moved restlessly through her bedroom, straightening the mess with a vaguely bemused grin on her face. She had _won:_ Toby was back in his cradle, sleeping peacefully, and that arrogant Goblin King was never getting his gloved crystal-conjuring hands on him again. She smirked, wondering briefly how often it was that he was defeated at his own game. And, she added privately, it had been an amazing game: hidden traps and double meanings, _nothing is as it seems, don't take anything for granted _and _be careful what you wish for,_ adrenaline-rush danger and friends, real friends who had done everything to help her. The only problem with the game had been the stakes: she had certainly never _intended_ to end up betting Toby's humanity against his bloody maze.

"Arrogant bastard," she muttered almost fondly under her breath as she thought of her opponent in all his wild-haired, mismatched-eyed glory. "Always cheating…" Now that she wasn't running in a haze of persistent terror through a maze where the walls moved around her every time she blinked, desperate to get to Toby, she could appreciate how well he had played, manipulating her bravado and childish belief that it should be _fair,_ and that she was always going to win, like a fairytale…

"But in the real fairytales, how often was there a happy ending?" she realised out loud, and groaned at her own stupidity. She was fifteen now, not five, and she had just ignored the danger like a petulant child. She shook her head, muttering to herself: "I guess it was good thing it was _Labyrinth_ that came to life, not a more dangerous story."

That made her pause. If _Labyrinth_ was real, then how many other stories were true? Her mind began to race. Was it just stories like _Labyrinth_, with wishes and goblins, or was it all of them? She had always been vaguely aware that _Labyrinth_ was based on Celtic lore, but she had never really investigated those tales, all tricksters and otherworld and inhumanly beautiful…

"Fae," she breathed softly. The Goblin King certainly hadn't looked like a goblin. And if he was Fae…

"Hello, Sarah," a male voice drawled behind her.

* * *

Sarah spun around, stifling a yelp as she lost her balance and fell back to sit heavily on her bed, wide, incredulous green eyes fixed on the intruder.

He was practically draped over the end of her bookshelf, a lazily mocking grin teasing the corners of his lips, his mismatched eyes alight with wicked mischief as he enjoyed her reaction, a perfectly spherical crystal absently rolling around and between his gloved hands. He was wearing sooty black breeches this time, his open-necked cream poet's shirt displaying the gold pendant on his pale, muscled chest.

Heart thundering, Sarah swallowed nervously. What was he doing here? He didn't look exhausted and angry like had had several hours ago in the aftermath of the Escher room as she racked her brains for the Right Words: in fact, he looked remarkably like a twelve-year-old boy with a secret who would happily skip around and inform you in a sing-song voice that he wasn't going to tell you. His entire _being_ had an atmosphere of joyous mischief, except there was something slightly _older_ and therefore infinitely more dangerous about him.

As the silence stretched on, his grin turned towards a smirk. "I hope my subjects have not caused overmuch… _inconvenience_ to you."

Sarah had to swallow again before she could speak, desperately trying to divine his intentions. "Ah… no, once the Fireys had picked up all their body parts, there was surprisingly not much else…" She trailed off. What are you _doing?_ she mentally screamed at herself. You would _never_ react so calmly to this! You wished your baby brother away just for stealing a _teddy bear_, and now the _Goblin King_ is smirking at you and you're just calmly _talking?_

Her fingers clenched around her sheets nervously. I react like this since I spoke without thinking an ended up winning a bet against the Goblin King, she replied to herself. _What's said is said,_ remember? There are more important things to be doing than throwing a tantrum, like figuring out _why the hell he's here!_ "…How're you?" she finished lamely.

The smirk exploded almost to actual laughter, eyes dancing in mirth. "Quite well, thankyou." As he spoke, light flashed off his inhumanly sharp teeth, and Sarah's fists clenched tighter, her fear resurging. Shitshitshit, what _is_ he? If he was Fae, what did that _mean?_ She had a nagging feeling that the stories about humans and Fae ended well… for the Fae. Why did I never read about this before? she wondered frantically. All these years of _Sword in the Stone, Lord of the Rings, Grimm's Fairytales,_ but never any Celtic legends? "Sarah." The sound of his voice snapped her attention back to the smirking Goblin King lounging next to her bedroom window. Her eyes focussed on him again, startled. "I find myself most curious as to whether or not you are aware of the Persephone canon."

Her train of thought instantly switched to a different track, clattering after her recognition of the name. "P…Persephone?" she repeated, stuttering slightly. What did he want, why was he _here?_ "Like… Hades-and-Persephone Persephone?" She felt faintly bewildered by the thought that he knew Greek myths. Wasn't his world of _Labyrinth_ completely separate from the Ancient Greek gods and heroes? She'd never seen any overlap…

He was nodding. "It is named after her… predicament, certainly," he confirmed. Sarah felt vaguely disturbed by the way he paused before _predicament,_ like he didn't really believe Persephone had a bad deal being kidnapped by the Lord of the Dead, and was simply referring to it in a way that he expected her to recognise. "The term is used by mortal scholars of myth and folklore, concerning one piece of advice that visitors to realms other than their own should always follow."

She tried to remember the story. Persephone had been taken by Hades to the Underworld, and Demeter had gone on a rampage, only it was too late to get her back because… "Pomegranate" was all she managed, the word taking all her breath with it, a sort of sick fascination descending on her as dread realisation began to creep closer. Persephone couldn't leave Hades because she ate six pomegranate seeds.

The Goblin King grinned – she _really_ didn't like that expression, and the realisation was preparing to pounce now, its icy breath freezing her stomach – and he twirled the crystal on his fingertips. "Or, perhaps…" He held it out and it transformed, furry skin over a sunset of orange and red.

"Peach," Sarah whispered. Shit shit _shit_, she had eaten a bite of peach from the _Underground…_

"Very astute, Sarah," he drawled. Her wide green eyes were drawn from the peach to his mismatched eyes and she flinched slightly. He was laughing, he was silently _laughing_ at her…

"B…but…" She was grasping at straws, hunting for words, anything to work out what was happening. "But I came back here!" He simply quirked one elegant, upswept eyebrow and she dove after the idea before it escaped her. "If the peach means I can't leave the Underground then how am I here?"

He smirked revealing more teeth, and she shuddered, knowing with sudden clarity that she was not going to like what her said next. "It appears, Sarah, that you are a Dreamer, the equal of which has not been seen in many hundreds of years." He was suddenly upright, a towering presence looming over her, and she tried not to quail as he stepped away from the wall and closer to her like a snow leopard stalking its prey. "Your Belief is so strong," he continued, each word clear and dangerous. "That you have set up a new game, Sarah."

She fought the impulse to bolt away from him as he finally stopped advancing, far too close for comfort, his nearness and dangerous amusement sending shivers of fear up and down her spine. "Game?" It came out strangled, and she had to crane her neck to see his face.

He gave her a smug smile, like a satisfied cat. "Indeed. I like to call it…" He raised his hands dramatically as if to illuminate the title. "Sarah versus the Universe."

Sarah squeaked and recoiled. _"Shit!"_

_

* * *

_

"What's the matter, Sarah?" Jareth purred softly, mockingly. The little mortal had retreated so fast he could almost believe she had transported, curling up tightly in a protective ball against the headboard of her bed, a litany of muffled-whisper profanities pouring from her lips as she shuddered uncontrollably. He felt a surge of amusement at her use of language: she cursed worse than mermen, and they were the ones that mortal sailors learned from. He leaned in closer to her ear, delighting in the way she jolted in shock as he spoke. "Don't you think it a good game?"

"G… good?" she repeated dazedly, evidently having difficulty processing the information. He could imagine her weighing up the odds and panicking. "No!"

He forced his laughter back at her blurted denial and the way she instantly cowered back, as if fearing his wrath. Sweet Danu, she was _terrified_ of him! He felt faintly proud of her reaction – she was actually realising that she had _reason_ to be afraid now, facing the reality of the situation – even if he found it hilarious that she was so scared of angering him. He wondered how he could get her past her fear into actually responding properly. "No?" An eyebrow rose enquiringly, and he was unable to keep the bubbling amusement out of his tone. "Do _elaborate,_ Sarah." He paused, then, smirking: "Is it, perhaps… not _fair?"_

"Shut _up,_ you smug bastard!"

Dead, ringing silence. Jareth nearly had to pause time so he could voice his laughter without her knowing, beating his mirth back under control. _That_ was certainly more like the Sarah he knew. He watched the small part of her face he could glimpse between her hands, trying to work out what she was thinking. Fear predominated for a moment, as she no doubt wondered whether he was angry at her defiance, then it went rigid in concentration as she forced herself to calm down from her state of hysteria, wavering between laughing and crying. She breathed deeply once, twice, and relaxed somewhat. He looked on approvingly as she regained control.

"It sounds like a terrible game."

His approval vanished into disbelief and growing anger. She _wasn't going to play?_ Was she just going to sit there and forfeit, give up and just let him spirit her away? What was she _thinking?_ Had she switched souls with her _stepmother_ without him noticing? Where was her fire, her defiance, the challenge in her green eyes? "You don't want to play?" Darkness had crept into his voice, cruel, malicious, threatening. He tried to smother his disappointment and anger in dismissal. If _she_ didn't care, _he_ certainly wasn't going to get worked up about it. Forfeiters were non-entities, beneath his notice. "It will be a quick game, then," he said dispassionately, coldly. He readied the transport magic, the crystal just beyond his fingertips, waiting to materialise. If she was going to forfeit, he wasn't going to make the Universe pitch in – he would take her back himself and find some menial drudgery for her. Forfeiters were _nothing._

He looked on her again in lingering regret, and paused. One green eye had cracked open. Was she… _glaring?_

"Did I say that?" she demanded, voice crackling in irritation. Jareth felt the darkness recede, slow admiration creeping up to replace it. Was she really doing what he thought…? "I don't think so." He moved back to give her space as she uncurled and stood up, facing him with her arms crossed, eyes sparking in defiance. "I just said that it'll be a terrible game, because I don't know anything." She enunciated the last part clearly, glaring more fiercely as if it was his fault that she didn't know.

He frowned at her, keeping the hope under control: she's just a mortal, remember what she was like, throwing tantrums just inside the gate, she can't _really_ be cunning enough to… "And?" he asked pointedly.

Her eyes glittered in irritation. _"And,_ if I could perhaps have a little time to _prepare,_ I might be able to make the game last longer than the Universe's first move!"

She _was!_ Jareth let a slow, delighted smirk uncurl across his face. She wasn't an expert, of course, nowhere near good enough to fool anything near as tricky as a Fae, but she was _playing_, and it was a brilliant opening move. "Why, Sarah," he purred. "How unexpectedly… _devious_ of you."

He saw her confusion at the backhand compliment, and the resulting half-grimace on her face was too much. He burst into laughter, contagious enough that she was smiling uncertainly with him. A game, a _game,_ the like of which hadn't been played in _centuries_… "Granted," he told her at last, aware that his eyes were alight with joy and that he was half-singing as he spoke, unable to restrain himself. _Sarah was playing!_ "The return move shall begin at moonset on your sixteenth birthday, Sarah. Play well."

He vanished, returning to his castle before he burst into song in front of her, although it might have been amusing to see the look on her face if he had sung in front of her. He hurled a crystal into the air in his throne room, watching her as he danced across the floor, the goblins cheering at his playful mood. She was shaking her head, slowly crumpling to the floor as she mouthed the time limit: "moonset on my sixteenth." It was generous, nearly six months, but she would realise soon enough that it was tricky, too: her birthday was winter solstice, and the veil between worlds would be thin on that night, allowing all sorts of opportunities for her to "stumble" into other realms. He grinned in anticipation. She suddenly picked herself up, staring at herself in her mirror, moon-pale skin, jade-green eyes, night-sable hair. Feeling generous, eager to ensure that she would have the chance to play well, he sent her a token. She pulled it out of her hair with trembling fingers, examining the feather, eyes drifting to register the scroll of parchment he had sent with it. She read it, lips moving as her eyes scanned the words: _owl feathers to protect a maiden's virtue._ He had added on a book reference, absently conjuring a copy of the book in question into her local library.

His heart sang as she suddenly smirked, sliding the feather back into her hair. "It'll be a good game," she vowed aloud.

Jareth threw back his head and laughed.

**_AN_**_ so so so, what do you think? yes, this is set up for a series of oneshots, and yes, i do know what happens... i think. bear with me, i'll try and get the sequel out soon._


End file.
